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It is he who got milk that is merciful.

Bajan proverbs
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Peace Of Mind

I gotta find peace of mind... I gotta find peace of mind
He says it's impossible...But I know it's possible
He says it's impossible... But I know it's possible
He says there's no me without him... Please help me forget about him
He takes all my energy... Trapped in my memory
Constantly holding me... Constantly holding me
I need to tell you all... All the pain he's caused mmmmm
I need to tell you I'm... I'm undone because mmmmmm
He says it's impossible... But I know it's possible
He says it's impossible without him... But I know it's possible
To finally be in love... And know the real meaning of
A lasting relationship... Not based on ownership
I trust every part of u.... Cause all that you say you do
You love me despite myself
Sometimes I... I fight myself
I just can't believe that you.... Would have anything to do
With someone so insecure... Someone so immature
Ohh you inspire me, to be the higher me
You make my desire pure... You make my desire pure
Just tell me what to say... I can't find the words to say
Please don't be mad with me... I have no identity
All that I've known is gone... All I was building on
I wanna walk wit you, how do I talk to you?
Touch my mouth with your hands... Touch my mouth with your hands
Oh I wanna understand the meaning of your embrace
I know now I have to face... The temptations of my past
Please don't let me disgrace... where my devotion lays
Now that I know the thruth... Now that it's no excuse
Keeping me from your love... What was I thinking of
Holding me from your love... What was I thinking of
You are my peace of mind... That old me is left behind
You are my peace of mind... That old me is left behind
He says it's impossible... but I know it's possible
He says it's improbable... but I know it's tangible
He says it's not grabbable... but I know it's haveable
Cause anything's possible... Cause anything is possible
Please come free my mind... Please come feed my mind
Can you see my mind ohh... Won't you come free my mind
Oh I know it's possible
Anything, anything, anything, anything, anything.... yeah
Anything, anything, anything, anything, .... yeah
Anything, anything, anything, anything, anything.... yeah
Oh, free... free, free, free your mind
Free... free your mind
Free.. free your mind
Free free free free your mind
Oh, it's so possible... Oh, it's so possible
I'm telling you it's possible... I'm telling you it's possible
Free, free, free....... free, get free now (repeat)
Your my peace of mind... That old me is left behind

[...] Read more

song performed by Lauryn Hill
Added by Lucian Velea
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635 Milk The Elixir Of Life

MILK - One of God's preciuos gifts
For all who seek to live
Of all the food that passes lips
This has the most to give.
And when we from our Mothers feed
Her milk provides our every need.

The milk of cows and goats and sheep
Sustains us in our later life
An elixir before we sleep
It calms our nerves and eases strife
What is the secret of this stuff
Milkaholics just can't get enuff.

We know that milk is mostly water
There's almost eighty eight percent
There's protein - fat and carbohydrate
And calcium to give bones strength.
Drinka - Pinta - Milka - Day
It sure will help you on your way.

Full-fat milk makes ladies fertile
And it tastes much nicer too
Leave the skimmed milk for the slimmers
While you enjoy your creamy goo.
Jersey Milk has FIVE POINT THREE
Fresian much less - Oh dear me! ! !

Milk is a rich source of vitamins
A and D and E and K
Lactose gives our milk its sweetness
Drinka - Pinta - Milka - Day.
Drinking milk instead of coffee
Keeps you calm and much less stroppy.

Natural milk is prone to curdle
So we have to Pasteurise
Killing all the dee-dum-durdle
Homogenise and Sterilise.
When next in't Country - it's my vow
To drink my milk straight from the cow! ! !

Milk provides a range of products
Cream - Butter - Cheese and Yoghurt too
Without which life would be much poorer
No Camembert or Danish Blue.
When our palates we would please
We judge a country by its Cheese.
I'll sing the praise of English Cheeses
Cheddar - Cheshire - Wenslydale

[...] Read more

poem by John Knight
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Merciful Maker of Waters and Whiles

Merciful Maker of waters and whiles,
Spare please my son from the fierce crocodiles,
Then he too will know you.
I'll rear him to fear you.
He cannot survive in the waters of the Nile.
This trial is too great! The boy is my child!
O Merciful Maker of waters and whiles,
Spare please my son from the fierce crocodiles.

Pharoah's command is most certainly vile:
'Kill each boy child born in all of Israel! '
I hear mothers weeping.
The monsters are feasting.
A child's meat is sweet to those beasts in the Nile.
Revile this intrusion lest I fall beguiled,
O Merciful Maker of waters and whiles.
Spare please my son from the fierce crocodiles!

Alas, and I fear never more will I smile.
They've taken my baby boy down to the Nile.
My son is not screaming.
It sounds like he's singing;
Though soon he will bathe as among pedophiles.
Denial will not spare him nor savoring bile.
O Merciful Maker of waters and whiles,
Spare please my son from the fierce crocodiles.

Merciful Maker of waters and whiles,
Who spared not my son from the fierce crocodiles,
But spared instead Moses,
And he will deliver
All children of Israel from out of the Nile.
In this trial I'll praise you and smile in this while,
O Merciful Maker of waters and whiles,
Who spared not my son from the fierce crocodiles.

Deliverer Moses resembles your child,
O Merciful Maker of waters and whiles;
Though Moses was rescued
But your son not spared-
Devoured his flesh as with beasts of the Nile.
You meanwhile were pleased as you stood by and smiled,
O Merciful Maker of waters and whiles,
Who spared not your own son to make me your child.

poem by Hm. Nes
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The Milkmaid's Song

Turn, turn, for my cheeks they burn,
Turn by the dale, my Harry!
Fill pail, fill pail,
He has turned by the dale,
And there by the stile waits Harry.
Fill, fill,
Fill, pail, fill,
For there by the stile waits Harry!
The world may go round, the world may stand still
But I can milk and marry,
Fill pail,
I can milk and marry.

Wheugh, wheugh!
O, if we two
Stood down there now by the water,
I know who'd carry me over the ford
As brave as a soldier, as proud as a lord,
Though I don't live over the water.
Wheugh, wheugh! he's whistling through,
He's whistling 'The Farmer's Daugher.'
Give down, give down,
My crumpled brown!
He shall not take the road to the town,
For I'll meet him beyond the water.
Give down, give down,
My crumpled brown!
And send me to my Harry.
The folk o' towns
May have silken gowns,
But I can milk and marry,
Fill pail,
I can milk and marry.

Wheugh, wheugh! he has whistled through
He has whistled through the water.
Fill, fill, with a will, a will,
For he's whistled through the water,
And he's whistling down
The way to the town,
And it's not 'The Farmer's Daughter!'
Churr, churr! goes the cockchafer,
The sun sets over the water,
Churr, churr! goes the cockchafer,
I'm too late for my Harry!
And, O, if he goes a-soldiering,
The cows they may low, the bells they may ring,
But I'll neither milk nor marry,
Fill pail,
Neither milk nor marry.

[...] Read more

poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Dairy Ode

Our muse it doth refuse to sing
Of cheese made early in the spring,
When cows give milk from spring fodder
You cannot make a good cheddar.

The quality is often vile
Of cheese that is made in April,
Therefore we think for that reason
You should make later in the season.

Cheese making you should delay
Until about the first of May.
Then cows do feed on grassy field
And rich milk they abundant yield.

Ontario cannot compete
With the Northwest in raising wheat,
For cheaper there they it can grow
So price in future may be low.

Though this a hardship it may seem,
Rejoice that you have got the cream,
In this land of milk and honey,
Where dairy farmers do make money.

Utensils must be clean and sweet,
So cheese with first class can compete,
And daily polish up milk pans,
Take pains with vats and with milk cans.

And it is important matter
To allow no stagnant water,
But water from pure well or stream
The cow must drink to give pure cream.

Canadian breeds 'tis best to pair
With breeds from the shire of Ayr,
They thrive on our Canadian feed
And are for milking splendid breed.

Though 'gainst spring cheese some do mutter,
Yet spring milk also makes bad butter,
Then there doth arise the query
How to utilize it in the dairy.

The milk it floats in great spring flood
Though it is not so rich and good,
Let us be thankful for this stream
Of milk and also curds and cream.

[...] Read more

poem by James McIntyre
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Milkcow Calf Blues

(Robert Johnson)
Tell me, milk cow, what on earth is wrong with you?
Tell me, milk cow, what on earth is wrong with you?
Well, well, you have a new calf, hoo hoo, and your milk is turnin' blue
Your calf is hungry, and I believe he needs a suck
[Spoken:] Now, you know that calf done got hungry
Your calf is hungry, and I believe he needs a suck
Well, now, but the milk is turnin' blue, hoo hoo, and I believe he's outta luck
Now I feel like milkin' and my, cow won't come
I feel like churnin' it and my, milk won't turn
I'm cryin' plea-hease, please, don't do me wrong
You can give-a right milk and butter, now, baby, you-hoo, will stay at home
My milk cow been ramblin', hoo hoo, for miles around
My milk cow been ramblin', hoo hoo, for miles around
She been troublin' some other bull cow, hoo hoo
Lord, in this man's town

song performed by Eric Clapton
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It IS Milk!

Pretend it is milk!
That is all we are asking you to do!
Just keep pretending that it is.
What difference does it make,
That it isn't produced from a cow?
Keep pretending that it was!
And your pretensions will make it come true.

'But...
It is not milk!
It's not even a cheap version of it.'

Pretend it is milk!
That is all we are asking you to do!
Just keep pretending that it is.
What difference does it make,
That it isn't produced from a cow?
Keep pretending that it was!
And your pretensions will make it come true.

'But...
It is not milk!
It's not even a cheap version of it.'

Pretend it is milk!
That is all we are asking you to do!
Just keep pretending that it is.
What difference does it make,
That it isn't produced from a cow?
Keep pretending that it was!
And your pretensions will make it come true.

'But...
It is not milk!
It's not even a cheap version of it.'

Pretend it is milk!
That is all we are asking you to do!
Just keep pretending that it is.
What difference does it make,
That it isn't produced from a cow?
Keep pretending that it was!
And your pretensions will make it come true.

'It is!
It IS milk! '

Great!
Now...
Let's move on to the meat and vegetables.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Cyclops

SILENUS:
O Bacchus, what a world of toil, both now
And ere these limbs were overworn with age,
Have I endured for thee! First, when thou fled’st
The mountain-nymphs who nursed thee, driven afar
By the strange madness Juno sent upon thee;
Then in the battle of the Sons of Earth,
When I stood foot by foot close to thy side,
No unpropitious fellow-combatant,
And, driving through his shield my winged spear,
Slew vast Enceladus. Consider now,
Is it a dream of which I speak to thee?
By Jove it is not, for you have the trophies!
And now I suffer more than all before.
For when I heard that Juno had devised
A tedious voyage for you, I put to sea
With all my children quaint in search of you,
And I myself stood on the beaked prow
And fixed the naked mast; and all my boys
Leaning upon their oars, with splash and strain
Made white with foam the green and purple sea,--
And so we sought you, king. We were sailing
Near Malea, when an eastern wind arose,
And drove us to this waste Aetnean rock;
The one-eyed children of the Ocean God,
The man-destroying Cyclopses, inhabit,
On this wild shore, their solitary caves,
And one of these, named Polypheme. has caught us
To be his slaves; and so, for all delight
Of Bacchic sports, sweet dance and melody,
We keep this lawless giant’s wandering flocks.
My sons indeed on far declivities,
Young things themselves, tend on the youngling sheep,
But I remain to fill the water-casks,
Or sweeping the hard floor, or ministering
Some impious and abominable meal
To the fell Cyclops. I am wearied of it!
And now I must scrape up the littered floor
With this great iron rake, so to receive
My absent master and his evening sheep
In a cave neat and clean. Even now I see
My children tending the flocks hitherward.
Ha! what is this? are your Sicinnian measures
Even now the same, as when with dance and song
You brought young Bacchus to Althaea’s halls?

CHORUS OF SATYRS:

STROPHE:
Where has he of race divine

[...] Read more

poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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The Cow-Juice Cure

The clover was in blossom, an' the year was at the June,
When Flap-jack Billy hit the town, likewise O'Flynn's saloon.
The frost was on the fodder an' the wind was growin' keen,
When Billy got to seein' snakes in Sullivan's shebeen.

Then in meandered Deep-hole Dan, once comrade of the cup:
"Oh Billy, for the love of Mike, why don't ye sober up?
I've got the gorgus recipay, 'tis smooth an' slick as silk --
Jest quit yer strangle-holt on hooch, an' irrigate with milk.
Lackteeal flooid is the lubrication you require;
Yer nervus frame-up's like a bunch of snarled piano wire.
You want to get it coated up with addypose tishoo,
So's it will work elastic-like, an' milk's the dope for you."

Well, Billy was complyable, an' in a month it's strange,
That cow-juice seemed to oppyrate a most amazin' change.
"Call up the water-wagon, Dan, an' book my seat," sez he.
"'Tis mighty queer," sez Deep-hole Dan, "'twas just the same with
me."
They shanghaied little Tim O'Shane, they cached him safe away,
An' though he objurgated some, they "cured" him night an' day;
An' pretty soon there came the change amazin' to explain:
"I'll never take another drink," sez Timothy O'Shane.
They tried it out on Spike Muldoon, that toper of renown;
They put it over Grouch McGraw, the terror of the town.
They roped in "tanks" from far and near, an' every test was sure,
An' like a flame there ran the fame of Deep-hole's Cow-juice Cure.

"It's mighty queer," sez Deep-hole Dan, "I'm puzzled through and through;
It's only milk from Riley's ranch, no other milk will do."
An' it jest happened on that night with no predictive plan,
He left some milk from Riley's ranch a-settin' in a pan;
An' picture his amazement when he poured that milk next day --
There in the bottom of the pan a dozen "colours" lay.

"Well, what d'ye know 'bout that," sez Dan; "Gosh ding my dasted eyes,
We've been an' had the Gold Cure, Bill, an' none of us was wise.
The milk's free-millin' that's a cinch; there's colours everywhere.
Now, let us figger this thing out -- how does the dust git there?
`Gold from the grass-roots down', they say -- why, Bill! we've got it cold --
Them cows what nibbles up the grass, jest nibbles up the gold.
We're blasted, bloomin' millionaires; dissemble an' lie low:
We'll follow them gold-bearin' cows, an' prospect where they go."

An' so it came to pass, fer weeks them miners might be found
A-sneakin' round on Riley's ranch, an' snipin' at the ground;
Till even Riley stops an' stares, an' presently allows:
"Them boys appear to take a mighty interest in cows."
An' night an' day they shadowed each auriferous bovine,
An' panned the grass-roots on their trail, yet nivver gold they seen.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert William Service
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Malted Milk

(by robert johnson)
I keep drinking malted milk, trying to drive my blues away.
I keep drinking malted milk, trying to drive my blues away.
Baby, youre just as welcome to my loving as the flowers is in may.
Malted milk, malted milk, keep rushing to my head.
Malted milk, malted milk, keep rushing to my head.
And I have a funny, funny feeling and Im talking all out my head.
Baby, fix me one more drink and hug your daddy one more time.
Baby, fix me one more drink and hug your daddy one more time.
Keep on stirring my malted milk, mama, until I change my mind.
My doorknob keeps on turning, there must be spooks around my bed.
My doorknob keeps on turning, there must be spooks around my bed.
And I have a funny, funny feeling and the hairs rising on my head.

song performed by Eric Clapton
Added by Lucian Velea
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2Oth WHO WBW Celebrations: Breast-milk is Still, the Very Best!

‘Breast-milk is best, ' most doctors surely vouch,
By working mothers or one sick on couch;
It gives the babe, the human warmth and touch!
Only the lazy moms would try to grouch!

The first secreted milk Colostrum's, good,
With nutrients, immune bodies - great food!
To give her baby this, all mothers should;
Turn weak if 'tis denied, the baby could.

The Almighty destined Eve bear children
With labour-pains, and raise them up even;
The suckling-reflex too comes from heaven;
Breast-milk is best - a fact, long back proven!

Contents are ideal for the child always;
Container's ready, hygienic all days;
Matching the baby's hunger, sucking pace,
Breast-milk has kept healthy, the human race!

Milk gently comes through nipple's holes like spray!
The mother burns more calories each day;
‘The lactose suits the baby', people say;
The uterus gets back to size this way!

No formula can replace breast-milk's place!
Breast-milk is clean, sterile in every case;
The baby's brain and gaze well-developed stays;
The habit builds a bond of love that pays!

Breast-feeding does not affect maiden's form;
'Tis natural for mothers, does no harm;
It keeps the baby snug, busy and warm;
Well breast-fed baby stays happy and calm!

‘For babies' sake, let mothers learn the craft;
Breast-feeding is an art that should be taught;
The mind and hormones play a magic role;
It helps mother-hood to achieve its goal! '

‘Understanding the past - Planning the future! '
Dedicated by the Dean, IRT PMC Perundurai, TN, India
To all mothers and would-be mothers, world-wide.
Copyright by Dr John Celes 6-8-12

poem by John Celes
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Bit News

Donkey milk

Is...

Good for health...

This thinking for

South indian poeple's...

So...

New born baby

Given for donkey's milk...

I also drink for

Donkey milk at childhood...

My gran mother told for me...!

Donkey milk is for

Only at donkey...

But...

People idea is...

Donkey's milk is how is

Help full for human health...?

I don't no...!

Miss or mrs univers

Celeo patra also

Take bath for

Donkey's milk...

For his beauty...

It history bit news

How much true

[...] Read more

poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Cat with milk

My cat
Not drink milk...
For today...
Yester day

My cat was
Try drink hot
Of milk...

Hot was hit...
For my cat mouth...
Cat was did not cry...
Run away for hot

Milk pot...
So...
Today coll milk also

My cat did not drink...
O...
I am very soory

For hot milk...
Come to drink milk....

poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Milkman Is Dead

'Verghese* these women are suffering
Precious milk is spoiled and in return get less offering'
Two friends were gossiping and discussing
There was not a single point for missing

K. Verghese never thought of making Gujarat
His work place for white revolution at flat
He saw the plight of village women
The idea for welfare of women emerged all of sudden

There was formation of milk cooperatives
It had one mission with clear objectives
State must prosper along with poor women
He was to create dynasty with good omen

'For effective sale brand name is must'
He used to canvass idea with full confidence and trust
'Amul' was name given meant for 'price less'
Amul milk dairy has become known world wide and famous

His life time contribution paved the way
The prosperity retuned to state all the way
The milk man played great miracle
The fortune moved with full cycle

Ask any woman in Gujarat village
She will smile for Kurian* and manage
He will be remembered as Milk Pitamah*
The effect may still remain known aftermath

He remained life time chairman
But set an example of noble man
Refused to charge single rupee as pension
Stopped it for last twenty years and it is worth to mention

No one has done such type of work
As did Mr. Kurian from the start
He may be remembered on world arena
'As milk' man for white revolution

*K.Verghese Kurian.. name …Pitamah…Grandfather? God father

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Hasty Pudding

A POEM IN THREE CANTOS

Canto I

Ye Alps audacious, through the heavens that rise,
To cramp the day and hide me from the skies;
Ye Gallic flags, that o'er their heights unfurled,
Bear death to kings, and freedom to the world,
I sing not to you. A softer theme I choose,
A virgin theme, unconscious of the muse,
But fruitful, rich, well suited to inspire
The purest frenzy of poetic fire.
Despise it not, ye bards to terror steeled,
Who hurl your thunders round the epic field;
Nor ye who strain your midnight throats to sing
Joys that the vineyard and the stillhouse bring;
Or on some distant fair your notes employ,
And speak of raptures that you ne'er enjoy.
I sing the sweets I know, the charms I feel,
My morning incense, and my evening meal,
The sweets of Hasty Pudding. Come, dear bowl,
Glide o'er my palate, and inspire my soul.
The milk beside thee, smoking from the kine,
It's substance mingled, married in with thine,
Shall cool and temper thy superior heat,
And save the pains of blowing while I eat.
Oh! could the smooth, the emblematic song
Flow like thy genial juices o'er my tongue,
Could those mild morsels in my numbers chime,
And, as they roll in substance, roll in rime,
No more thy awkward unpoetic name
Should shun the muse, or prejudice thy fame;
But rising grateful to the accustomed ear,
All bards should catch it, and all realms revere!
Assist me first with pious toil to trace
Through wrecks of time thy lineage and they race;
Declare what lovely squaw, in days of yore,
(Ere great Columbus sought thy native shore)
First gave thee to the world; her works of fame
Have lived indeed, but lived without a name.
Some tawny Ceres, goddess of her days,
First learned with stones to crack the well-dried maize,
Through the rough sieve to shake the golden shower,
In boiling water stir the yellow flour:
The yellow flour, bestrewed and stirred with haste,
Swell in the flood and thickens to a paste,
Then puffs and wallops, rises to the brim,
Drinks the dry knobs that on the surface swim;

[...] Read more

poem by Joel Barlow
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Broremann The Farmhand

Broremann, the farmer worker.

Every morning at five thirty sharp, my brother Broremann
had to milk five cows by hand bring bucket full of goodness
to the scullery where maid sifted it and in a churn it went.
He had to start milking Rose first, she was the mother cow
other cows wouldn´t give milk unless he started with her.
After milking Broremann had to clean the barn five cows
make a lot of dung; he pushed it down in a hole in the wall
it was later used to fertilize the land. My brother was proud
of his ability to milk and his hands were, firm yet gentle.
There was a problem though Rose didn´t yield as much milk
as before as she was getting elderly and the farmer sold her
to the knacker’s yard. It was a sad day and the other cows
mooed woefully. The farmer bought a new cow to take Rosa´s
place, but Broremann couldn´t milk her first, as she was new-
comer, so he started with Gerda, now the oldest cow, and milk
the new one last, thus rural peace continued in the cow shed.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Little Ganesha in Toonpura

This story is about tiny city of Toonpura. A little boy named Ganesha lived in this small town, which was located near a river. Daily life was very simple for him as he was very religious and he used to sit near the temple and wait for the morning worship of Lord Ganesha.
Only family member who was left alive of this little boy was his loving grandmother. Every day he prayed for her long life because she was the only one who actually truly loved him. He used to sell beautiful red roses whenever he could find some. With the little money which he could get by selling the roses, with that money the boy used to purchase sweets for his grandmother to eat.
One day he saw a large crowd gathered to visit the temple of Ganesha. He was excited because today he thought that lot of red roses will be sold since so many people are visiting the temple. Ganesha came running with his basket of flowers and started requesting the crowd to purchase his flowers. Some people said to him please go away since we are in hurry as Lord Ganesha is waiting for us. A liitle girl saw the red roses and told the boy please give me a rose. Without worrying about the money, he just gave one rose to her. She smiled back at him and this brought a smile on the face of Ganesha as well.
Then he went further and started asking others to purchase his roses as well, slowly some kind devotees started to buy his roses and this added a smile on the face of the little boy. The little girl whom he gave a rose came with a one rupee coin and said this is for you my friend. He said thank you by asking the reason as to why all of a sudden so many visitors are here. Girl said to the boy, Ganesha is drinking milk today. The little boy said to the little girl, really? To this she replied, yes this is true.
Ganesha got in the line with his basket of flowers. Gradually the devotees started to move ahead and feed lots of milk to the marble statue of Lord Ganesha. To the utter surprise of Ganesha, the statue did drink the milk. He suddenly spoke in his soft voice, please give me milk also to drink as I like it a lot and my name is Ganesha. I am very hungry as I have eaten nothing since the morning. The little girl, whom he met earlier in the crowd, came running with a cup of milk which she took from her mother. My friend Ganesha, the girl said, here is milk for you also so please do not be sad.

poem by Rohit Sapra
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Jubilate Agno: Fragment B, Part 1

Let Elizur rejoice with the Partridge, who is a prisoner of state and is proud of his keepers.

Let Shedeur rejoice with Pyrausta, who dwelleth in a medium of fire, which God hath adapted for him.

Let Shelumiel rejoice with Olor, who is of a goodly savour, and the very look of him harmonizes the mind.

Let Jael rejoice with the Plover, who whistles for his live, and foils the marksmen and their guns.

Let Raguel rejoice with the Cock of Portugal -- God send good Angels to the allies of England!

Let Hobab rejoice with Necydalus, who is the Greek of a Grub.

Let Zurishaddai with the Polish Cock rejoice -- The Lord restore peace to Europe.

Let Zuar rejoice with the Guinea Hen -- The Lord add to his mercies in the WEST!

Let Chesed rejoice with Strepsiceros, whose weapons are the ornaments of his peace.

Let Hagar rejoice with Gnesion, who is the right sort of eagle, and towers the highest.

Let Libni rejoice with the Redshank, who migrates not but is translated to the upper regions.

Let Nahshon rejoice with the Seabreese, the Lord give the sailors of his Spirit.

Let Helon rejoice with the Woodpecker -- the Lord encourage the propagation of trees!

Let Amos rejoice with the Coote -- prepare to meet thy God, O Israel.

Let Ephah rejoice with Buprestis, the Lord endue us with temperance and humanity, till every cow have her mate!

Let Sarah rejoice with the Redwing, whose harvest is in the frost and snow.

Let Rebekah rejoice with Iynx, who holds his head on one side to deceive the adversary.

Let Shuah rejoice with Boa, which is the vocal serpent.

Let Ehud rejoice with Onocrotalus, whose braying is for the glory of God, because he makes the best musick in his power.

Let Shamgar rejoice with Otis, who looks about him for the glory of God, and sees the horizon compleat at once.

Let Bohan rejoice with the Scythian Stag -- he is beef and breeches against want and nakedness.

Let Achsah rejoice with the Pigeon who is an antidote to malignity and will carry a letter.

Let Tohu rejoice with the Grouse -- the Lord further the cultivating of heaths and the peopling of deserts.

Let Hillel rejoice with Ammodytes, whose colour is deceitful and he plots against the pilgrim's feet.

Let Eli rejoice with Leucon -- he is an honest fellow, which is a rarity.

[...] Read more

poem by Christopher Smart
Added by Poetry Lover
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Sister Cat

Cat stands at the fridge,
Cries loudly for milk.
But I've filled her bowl.
Wild cat, I say, Sister,
Look, you have milk.
I clink my fingernail
Against the rim. Milk.
With down and liver,
A word I know she hears.
Her sad miaow. She runs
To me. She dips
In her whiskers but
Doesn't drink. As sometimes
I want the light on
When it is on. Or when
I saw the woman walking
toward my house and
I thought there's Frances.
Then looked in the car mirror
To be sure. She stalks
The room. She wants. Milk
Beyond milk. World beyond
This one, she cries.

poem by Frances Mayes
Added by Poetry Lover
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Sour Milk-cow Blues

You like coffee and you like tea
Much more than you like me
And everybody says watch out yeah
For the sour milk-cow blues
You like your coffee just a little too sweet
Without your sugar life is incomplete
And everybody says watch out yeah
For the sour milk-cow blues
I think about you everyday
Something about you is not the same
Something about the things you say
Sounds like a different woman with a different name
Sour milk-cow blues
You wear a different size and style of shoe
I think that someone must be poisoning you
To replace you with a living double
Get out of my life right now and save them all of the trouble
They changed your complexion and your personality
Somebodys putting ideas in your head
They took the girl of my dreams and left you here instead
Sour milk-cow blues
You take your place in this parade of pleas
You dial a number and they offer relief
All alone with just your own device
They give you something and it isnt advice
To break the hearts of a million listeners
Start out as lovers and you end up as prisoners
Somebodys suffering from the things that you do
Somebodys suffering but youre glad it isnt you
Put your fingertips up to the screen
Repeat after me, wake at the count of three
Now I dont know which is worse
What theyre doing to you or what youre doing to me
Sour milk-cow blues

song performed by Elvis Costello
Added by Lucian Velea
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